


Final Breath That Was Drawn

by Midnightminx90



Series: Ah, But I'm Singing Like a Bird 'bout It Now [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, but make it gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24295270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightminx90/pseuds/Midnightminx90
Summary: Gorim brushes Duran’s beard in careful strokes, his reverence and love showing in his eyes
Relationships: Aeducan/Gorim Saelac, Male Aeducan/Gorim Saelac
Series: Ah, But I'm Singing Like a Bird 'bout It Now [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136474
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Final Breath That Was Drawn

**Author's Note:**

> Listen. LISTEN! I will go down with this ship and I hate how the game doesn't allow you to pursue a romance with Gorim if you play Aeducan as a dude and this is quite frankly such a shame bc od the delicious angst we missed out on
> 
> Idk if Im gonna write more, or if anyone's even insterested but this has been sitting in my google docs for almost a wholeass year now and I went through my WIP's to see if I had anyhing I could finish and this whole thing was just waiting there so here it is i guess

Duran Aeducan smiles as his fingers comb through the beard of Gorim Saelac, his second. As he untangles the knots and begins the procedure of braiding it again, the desire to lean in is almost too strong. He resists, for now.    
  
The prince is freshly bathed, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, water dripping from his beard as Gorim wrings the last of it out.    
  
Gorim reaches for a comb, the one that had once belonged to Duran’s mother. She had gifted with him the day before she passed, and it’s always been his most treasured possession. Duran’s never let anyone touch it, not his father or his brothers, for the fear that it would be taken from him.   
  
His lover is different.   
  
It sends a thrill through Duran to think of Gorim in such a way. He never thought he could love someone like he loves Gorim. For years, Duran thought he was broken, because he could never see what his younger brother saw in the (castless) women he trades for a new one every now and again.   
  
Gorim entering his life showed him it was not so.   
  
Duran knows it’s not unheard of for people to love someone of the same gender, but when it comes to noble families - the house of the ruling King in particular - there’s always been an expectation of marrying a person of a different gender so they can carry on their family line.   
  
It’s worse for the casteless, and Duran hates how Behlen plays with the hopeful women, promising them wealth and security, only to have his interest move to another woman.   
  
The casteless women turn to what is referred to as “noblehunting”, trying to secure a future by enticing noble men to sleep with them in the hopes of conceiving a son as sons inherit their father’s caste.    
Duran’s been subjected to having women attempt the very same thing with him, but his lack of interest in them have made it easy to reject them.   
  
And, unlike Behlen and Trian, he doesn’t toy them or act like they’re not worthy of his time.   
  
Duran sneaks in a hidden braid at the back of Gorim’s beard, a daring move because they risk exposure should it be discovered, but he doesn’t think anyone will look at Gorim long enough to notice it. His brothers refuse to speak to Gorim most of the time, nor do they look at him unless they have to. Gorim is of the warrior caste, but not a noble and so Trian especially doesn’t find Duran’s second worthy of attention.   
  
Gorim brushes Duran’s beard in careful strokes, his reverence and love showing in his eyes.   
  
The prince feels like closing his eyes and succumbing to the feeling, but he can’t tear his eyes away from his lover. Gorim’s the best person to have ever come into his life and Duran hates that they have to keep this whole thing a secret, for fear their families will find out. Duran doesn’t think his father would care all that much, but his brothers would; Trian in particular would see it as a stain not only on the reputation of their house and family, but on his own, for being the brother of someone involved with someone below their statue.    
  
“One day,” Duran says, breaking the silence of the room, “we can be together and no one will care.”   
  
“I wish I had your optimism, my Lord,” Gorim replies, putting the brush down and beginning to braid Duran’s beard.   
  
“We’re alone, Gorim. You know you don’t need to be formal now.” Duran grins, grabbing Gorim’s beard leaning forward. “But if you want to, I won’t stop you.”   
  
Suran sees the way Gorim’s eyes flicker downwards to his waist as the towel almost slips away, to what’s barely concealed underneath it. Not that it leaves anything to Gorim’s imagination, the way the towel shifts slightly.   
  
“What say you, Gorim?”    
  
Gorim blushes slightly, but he doesn’t look away and Duran’s grin turns wicked.    
  
“Yes, my Lord.”   
  
\---   
  
When Duran went to bed the previous night, he had not expected his last kiss with Gorim would be this.    
  
He tastes tears, tastes salt, doesn’t know whose they are. That kisses could be sad had never occurred to him, but his cheeks and beard are stained from blood, sweat and tears as his lover’s lips find his for the last time.   
  
Duran wants to tell Gorim to wait for him on the surface, to wait for the Wardens so they can be together on the surface.   
  
He doesn’t. He can’t. Duran doesn’t know where he’ll surface with his new family, if he even makes it to the surface at all. He knows how to wield a sword and shield, but they mean little with no armour and no potion. Duran knows from the legends what the blood of darkspawn will do to him, should their blades and arrows and magic not end his life.    
  
The taint is a slow death sentence and he would rather die by blade than by insanity.    
  
“I love you,” he says instead, hearing how the word ‘ _ goodbye _ ’ is hidden beneath, between the words he can say. Saying that words would make it final, and while he can’t dare to hope they’ll be together again, Duran is also unable to not hold on to even a small sliver of it.   
  
He’s read too many heroic tales as a child to be able to fully give up, even now.   
  
Gorim’s hand lingers on his face before he pulls away. Their minutes are up, their last time together passed by too quickly.   
Duran grasp Gorim’s hand again, putting his lips to the palm. One last kiss. One last time. One last touch.    
  
Their eyes meet through the bars.   
  
“I love you too,” Gorim says, and then Duran’s life is gone.    
  
His guard doesn’t say anything about it, giving Duran one last moment of respect before he’s to be forgotten, erased from the entirety of Orzammar. His name must already be struck from the records, from the family tree carved into the rock.    
  
The door to his cell opens.   
  
He says goodbye to Harrowmont, friend of his family and trusted advisor.   
  
Duran, favourite of his father and the Assembly, formerly of House Aeducan, walks with his head held high, sword and shield in hand as the doors slam shut behind him and his end lies before him.   
  
The darkness swallows him as he walks on, his only thoughts of Gorim Saelac.


End file.
